Dennis Jones is a Jamaican-born international economist, who has lived most of the time in the UK and USA, and latterly in Guinea, west Africa. He moved back to the Caribbean in 2007. This blog contains his observations on life on this small eastern Caribbean island, as well as views on life and issues on a broader landscape, especially the Caribbean and Africa.







**You may contact me by e-mail at livinginbarbados[at]gmail[dot]com**

Sunday, October 12, 2008

Daddy, I'm Bored.

One of my favourite blogging friends opined yesterday that she had nothing to write about. Always ready to offer a solution, I suggested that she write about there being nothing to write about. I look forward to her weekly offering to see if and how she handles that. I did warn her that I would run with the idea myself.

As I move from Sunday morning into afternoon, I am enjoying having nothing to write about.

My wife is off again on her travels. As I quipped to some friends yesterday, she is always heading off to Miami, so I wonder if we have some real estate there that I don't know about. She would not be a sub-prime borrower, so perhaps she has somewhere sublime that she's preparing as a surprise present. Anyway, her ostensible reason for going there this time is to help her youngest sister prepare for an upcoming wedding. Imagine, this weekend happens to be a holiday in The Bahamas, and those shopaholics are going to do God's will and prop up the American economy. "Go babies!"

Because of the heavy Spanish influence there, I assumed that the name Miami was from Spanish. But I discovered that the name comes from the Calusa word "Mayami", meaning "Big Water"; the Calusa were the main native tribe in the area when the Spaniards landed in the mid-1500s. However, Miami as we know it now has the distinction of being the only major city in the USA founded by a woman, Julia Tuttle. In the 1870s, investors and developers from the Midwest moved into the area, claiming old titles and buying land. Ms. Tuttle, the wealthy widow of a Cleveland businessman, was one of those who enjoyed life in Miami and saw potential for a resort community there. Now you know as much as I do.

My older daughter, at university in Montreal, was Skype-ing me last night about a sorority flame-out experience with a new sister who was not making nice racial references. This daughter is now a member of AOΠ (Alpha Omicron Pi). This sisterhood was founded in 1897 at Columbia University--ironically, from where her step sister graduated last year. Its philanthropic focus is arthritis research. My daughter mentioned "dismemberment", which I think had nothing to do with plans to neuter the cat in her shared apartment, but had maybe something to do with the offending sister. The members of the sorority are sometimes referred to as "AOPis" or less flatteringly, "Greek geeks". My daughter, who is now fully of age, was last night full of rage, and Greco-Roman wrestling may be on the bill as I write. I can't wait to talk to her later today. Maybe when I visit in midweek she may be behind bars as opposed to propping them up.

"Bubby" and I made coloured sand picture frames this morning, after she had brought the box containing this birthday present into my bed at around 6am. We had agreed that it could be opened today. But a little negotiation let me have another hour or more of snoozing.

After that, Daddy had an hour of US election analysis with "Meet the Press", where Tom Brokaw did not see the need to examine his own role in moderating the latest debate. I wondered how offended I would be to be referred to as "That One". I'm not sure if a black presidential candidate in the US, who is apparently taking a surprisingly large lead in the polls, should be offended. Right now he is "The One". Sen. Obama's public persona has been built around being cool and reflective so he would be more consistent by saying "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me."

My little one and I are now sharing the basement with sparrows, which may signal that another storm is brewing. I know it's not because we have broken a "parental encyclical" against eating downstairs. Crumbs! Yesterday, we caught a green monkey hiding under the guava trees, and I'm sure he was just waiting for us to head out before he went to take a siesta on our veranda.

Then there is an afternoon packed with American football games. I noticed the forlorn face of Baltimore Raven defender, Chris McAlister, who had just missed a play to allow a touch down in Indianapolis. His sweaty, steaming head was well adorned two bling earrings. My daughter said "He looks like a girl." I asked her why. "Because some girls have bald heads!" Oh, the logic of a young child.

So, I sympathize with my friend: there's nothing to write about.

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